Rome Has Fallen
by The-one-and-only-Rome
Summary: After Rome falls in battle, Germania must make a challenging decision with his friends life.


Germania hadn't seen Rome in this much of a critical state until now. He had already lost so much blood when the Germanic had picked him up off the battlefield and fled, back to their campsite. The blade was still hilt deep in the Roman's gut, and no way was Germania even going to attempt to try and pry it out.. "Roma?" His voice was slow, as if instead of talking to Rome, he were talking to a newborn infant child. "Roma, can you hear me?" He shook the other's shoulder lightly, cursing under his breath as all Rome could issue that he had indeed heard him, was groan in pain, and attempt to move, which Germania held him from, his hands easing the Roman back onto the bench. "You have to rest now, you have lost too much blood in such a short period of time.."

Germania's eyes drooped when all Rome did was issue a slow, and ragged breath as he slumped back onto the bench. He opened his eyes, which were crusted with blood, tears, and dust. "A-Ahh.." He nodded slowly, looking up at the longer haired man with a false smile painting his face. "W-We retreated, didn't we..?" His voice was so low Germania had to crouch down next to him to hear. He felt the Roman's hand brush his shoulder as he tugged him down closer, his chest rising and falling slower than its regular pattern. "Did we win-" He demanded softly, not letting go of the shoulder as he shuddered gently, almost as if he already knew the answer as the Germanic had stayed silent. "T-Then how many men..?"

Germania pursed his lips as he silently went through the list of men's faces he had seen dead on the ground as he fled. He sighed deeply as his monotone, and heavy voice began to issue the roll call. "Antias, Gallus, Crus, Demetrias, Pullus, Stolo, Remus, Stolo, Vestalis, both of them, Ponticus, he was only 27, Pulcher, his body was burning when I ran past, and Regillus, he did not return..." His shoulders slumped once he finished, the names of the dead weighing down the atmosphere in the room worse than it already was. "All men have fulfilled their duty and moved on, may they rest and not be forgotten" He finished the memorial call with the saying, looking down at the now grim face of the weakened Roman. "They served you well.."

Rome nodded as he sent his prayer, falling back against the bench as he gazed toward the ceiling. "P-Perhaps I should be joining the ranks.." He gasped as he moved the wrong way, the knife buried in his stomach turning with the small movement he had made. He looked up to Germania, asking him softly. "How deep is it..?" He tried to lift his arm, to grab the hilt of the knife to pull it out himself, but his strength gave out, causing him to cry out and pain and Germania to hold him still again. "Deep" Was all he received as an answer, looking up as his arms were held still. "T-They won't be able to get it out w-will they..?" Again, the false smile traced around the Roman's lips, though now, little droplets of blood seemed to form from the corners of his mouth. "Y-You couldn't t-touch it-"

"Yes, they'll be able to get it out.." Germania thought, trailing off. Did Rome deserve to be lied to out front, after all he had done for those men and his homeland? Did he deserve to be lied to, as he scarcely avoided death just as a rabbit turning sharp from a snare wire? No. Rome already could tell, Germania knew that, so there would be no need of baby talking and lying.. "No.." The word hung above the Germanic's head like a noose, swaying back and forth with the wind. "No, Roma, they won't be able to get it out.." He looked down at his friend, silently sweeping his dirty and matted hair from his eyes, so he could see them. "The blade is in too far and ruptured your inner organs.." He told him gently, as Rome twitched and blinked, those eyes now bearing tears. "I-I'm sorry" He never let go of his friends arm, letting him shake and try to move. Then Rome said the words Germania will never forget. "L-Lay me to rest, b-brother.."

Germania felt his throat tighten as the words hit home, looking down at the weak and frail face of his commander..and brother. He couldn't possibly fulfill the task, he wasn't just going to drive another dagger into his stomach.. But did he want to watch his friend, and brother, struggle for life and just catch onto it and watch it slip away as if it were air through his fingers.. He knew what Rome was saying, he was done. He was done fighting and killing, he was done ruling and conquering, Rome was done. He simply couldn't hold on any longer and he simply didn't want to suffer any longer, why wait for death, rather than knowing he is coming and greet him with long, and overdue arms? He felt his head shake even though he understand. "J-Ja.." He nodded now, his heart thumping in his ears as he looked about, picking up a cushion. "...I will do as instructed, Romulus Vargas.."

Rome smiled up his friend and raised his arm, grunting as he cupped the other's chin in his hand gently. "Thank you.." He mouthed, understanding the inner conflict the Germanic must be facing. He rolled his shoulders back carefully as he slid his hand down, to grip the neck of the other's shirt. "I'll count from ten..yes?" The small and weak smile never left the Roman's face as the Germanic nodded and he began counting. "Ten, nine, eight..seven.." He let his eyes flutter as he slid his other hand up, to wrap around Germania's neck, to pull him into a weak embrace. "Six, ..five" He stuttered softly as the cushion was positioned over his eyes, and he listened to the great Germanic man begin to cry, the silent and unwanted tears falling against his cheek. "Four, three..two..." Numer one was muffled as the cushion pressed over Rome's mouth, Germania's hands holding it down with heavy hands.

Germania never once lifted his hands as his tears stung his eyes. Rome's hand had loosened it's grip on his shirt, and the arm around his neck all together slacked and simply clung to the material of Germania's shirt. 'Thank you' still printed fresh into Germania's mind as his friend began to suffocate, to thrash underneath as he fought for air, but he wouldn't let up. "One" Germania's voice finished the call, as Rome's ragged breath began to still, and the hand had slipped from his shirt. Germania took his other hand in his as the movements of his fallen comrade stilled and Germania just knew he had passed.. "May you rest now, my brother.." He removed the cushion and found Rome's wide, blank eyes staring up at him. Had Rome been crying? He flipped the pillow, and indeed, the wet marking were there. "Y-You are welcome.." He then broke down, dropping the pillow altogether as the tears rolled down his cheeks and off the tip of his nose. "H-Help.." He said softly, but he soon bellowed, not wanting to wait as he began to manually try to re-start the Roman's heart. "H-Help!" He cried out, the many soldiers from outside hearing the Germanic cry from inside the tent.

That night they burned their commander's body. It was peaceful and by the water, just as Germania had instructed, just as Rome had wanted. "Let all of Rome's enemies be told this day.." He instructed as the wooden slats were lit. "Let them know Rome has fallen.." His voice weighed on the soldiers shoulders. "And let them know, Germania has fallen in his stead" He watched the fire build as it soon engulfed the make-shift casket, the smoke black as the night sky as the sparks cracked and the soldiers drank to their fallen brother. The word was sent quick across the territories, the front and centre talk about through all the different borders and governments. Some cried, some laughed, others couldn't feel at all as young Lovino Vargas dropped the parchment and sprinted home, seeking his brother. The parchment simply read, in dark, bolded red. 'Rome Has Fallen'.


End file.
